


A Day at a Time

by Xyriath



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, also a lot of smut, what more do you want from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always Jason who starts it.  But then it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cornflakepizza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornflakepizza/gifts).



The night quickly ended up quite different than how Jason had expected.

 

So often, it was him in pursuit, him making the first move, him doing the wanting and Bruce being the wanted.  He would always throw the first punch, be the one to blame.  The one who needed this, the grappling and the blocking and the bending and the exhilarating almost-dance that almost always ended up with him pinned to a brick wall by his wrists, teeth in Bruce's shoulder, or on his back or bent over in some abandoned building with his nails scrambling for purchase in something—anything—despite how much he hated the feeling—as Bruce pounded into him with a steady rhythm offset with a symphony of gasps and quiet grunts and moans and the occasional cry from one or the other.  He wasn't sure when it had turned into this, when he had begun to look forward to it, see it as indicative of his relatio— _interactions_ with Bruce instead of actual attempts on his well-being.  In the back of his mind, somewhere, he knew that it was in part because Bruce was finally, finally acknowledging his existence and his problems instead of just treating him like a fallen son who needed to "redeem himself" to be worthy of his attention.  Sometimes he wondered if that made him pathetic, striving after the approval of a man who took and never gave, but his reconciliation was still so tentative and uncertain that he couldn't allow himself to think about that.  So he pushed it out of his mind, pretended that everything was fine.  Or, well, that what was happening was fine.  He had always been good with his imagination, especially when it came to Bruce.

 

He also considered himself fairly good at dealing with surprises, but that didn't stop him from nearly falling over in shock when, after dodging a very well-timed assault (which at first he thought was absolutely stupid—who attacked a Bat on patrol?), he realized that it was Batman himself.  He stared, openmouthed, at the cowl for a moment, thinking that he should probably shut that mouth at some point, but too caught up with _why_ that it took him until Bruce lunged for him again for him to snap out of it and counter the kick with one of his own.  _Stop the wondering_ why, _Todd, and just kick his ass._

 

He put up a good fight.  He always did.  Still.  This one was different.  Bruce never pulled his punches when Jason attacked, but this time he seemed to be more focused on evasion and blocking, and at times went with a grab, making contact, to avoid a hit that Jason _knew_ he could have dodged.  Jay almost regretted never seeing Bruce out of his clothing except, on rare occasions, in the dark, because he was fairly sure he left a few bruises that would have made the both of them proud.  But he wasn't going to win this.  He never did.  That was just how these things were.

 

And then in one terrifying-thrilling fraction of a second, he found the bricks of a wall scraping against his bare back below his hiked-up shirt, Bruce's hands gripping Jason's wrists in his usual fashion.  At least Jason hadn't seen stars when Bruce had pushed him against it.  Had actually been pretty gentle about it, he realized, moments before Bruce was leaning in and—

 

Jason had tilted his head upwards and tried to push forward, almost lunge in for the kiss, but Bruce pulled back at the last moment.  Jason only had a split second to be annoyed at the teasing before Bruce took advantage of catching him off-guard to lean in and fit their lips together.

 

It wasn't—Jason wouldn't have called it a kiss, though technically that's what it was.  It was just a hell of a lot different than what they usually called kissing, much gentler and almost _sweet_ and even though there was some possessiveness in there, it was tender and that—it almost _scared_ Jason with how atypical it was.  He tried to push forward again, turn it into the usual fight between the two of them, but he couldn't.  Head spinning, mind flitting from one half-formed thought to another, it took him a moment to realize that Bruce had released his arms and was gripping—no, holding— _cradling_ his face, and kissing him slowly as Jason lifted his fists to bury them in the fabric of Bruce's costume.

 

And then Bruce pulled back, eased up on the pressure, and Jason's knees had apparently decided sometime along the way that they didn't feel like supporting him anymore because he staggered for a moment before he got his footing back.  Bruce reached out quickly to grab his waist, and Jason's hand instinctively went to grip that wrist.  Their eyes met, and Jason could have sworn his heart skipped for a second before his face twisted into his typical smirk.  He had control of this situation.  Of course he did.  He leaned in a bit, their noses nearly touching.

 

"Why don't you suck my dick, Bruce?" he purred, eyes narrowing slightly behind the red domino.  For a moment, he thought he saw the Bat's lips twitch—yeah, Jay still had it—before Bruce—Bruce was—Bruce had _knelt down_ , on his knees on the dirty ground, suit and all.  Jason gripped Bruce's shoulders as he felt a tug on his button and zipper, and then he could feel Bruce's warm breath, tantalizing and insubstantial, on the insides of his bare thighs for moments before a gentle pair of lips pressed up against them.

 

"F- _fuck_ ," Jason growled out, and the fact that Bruce didn't even react spoke volumes for how absorbed he was in his task.  A kiss on Jason's other thigh, and a content hum.  Jason had no idea what to do with this, and was seconds from yanking the cowl off, grabbing Bruce's head by the hair, and _dragging_ it to where Jason wanted it when the mouth slid, ever-so-slowly, onto Jason's cock.

 

Jason gasped and tilted his head back against the wall, making little noises in the back of his throat as Bruce began to suck, gently at first, but with careful, controlled increases of pressure as he continued.  Jason's hands tightened and he tried to buck his hips forward, but Bruce's hands were suddenly there, holding him there, and he could just _hear_ that low voice.  _Patience, Jason_.

 

But Jason didn't _want_ to be patient.  He just wanted Bruce to let him _come_ already, but that wasn't happening.  So he just pressed against Bruce's hands, ran his fingers up Bruce's shoulders and neck and up to the back of his head, and continued gasping.

 

The build was agonizingly so, but that just made it that much more worth it, and with a yell, Jason came, felt Bruce's mouth around him as he spent himself, and couldn't stop himself from moaning as Bruce swallowed every last drop.  He slumped back against the wall, panting, as Bruce pulled back and straightened himself, wiping at the corners of his mouth as Jason tried to work up the energy to stuff himself back in his pants.

 

He had barely finished zipping up when Bruce reached out to take his wrist.  Jason jumped—again—and looked up.  He was still here?  Jason had thought they were done for tonight, that they would run their separate ways, but Bruce was apparently not finished yet.

 

Bruce gave the wrist a tug, and for a moment, Jason considered yanking it away, demanding to know what was going on, since this wasn't even the beginning of the weird tonight.  But then Bruce turned, and there was something in the set of his jaw that closed Jason's mouth and urged him to follow.

 

When they reached the car, Jason turned to give Bruce something of an incredulous look, but Bruce ignored it and pulled him inside the back.  A moment to set the autopilot, and Bruce had shoved him back onto the seats, pinning him there with all two hundred-something pounds and kissing the hell out of him.

 

Now this, this Jason was fine with.  His legs were around Bruce in an instant, and he tried not to think about where they were going as he kissed him back.

 

It had been forever since he had been in the manor.  He tried not to think how long.  Even longer since he had been in Bruce's room, and never like this.  Never with those strong fingers tugging off his jacket gently, never with the fabric of Bruce's suit falling away under Jason's mouth, never with the two of them entwining naked on the bed.

 

As Jason's head flopped back on the pillow, Bruce's mouth found his collar bone and traced down it softly.  Jason squirmed impatiently, lifting his hand to the back of Bruce's head to _push_ him, make him suck harder or use his teeth or both, to leave marks on his skin that wouldn't fade for weeks.  But Bruce didn't seem to notice at all, and this just made Jason that much more uneasy.  _What was he doing?_

 

Bruce's lips found Jason's chest and his tongue lapped across, softly enough that Jason could barely feel it.  He pressed his lips to the center the gentlest of kisses, then his nose traced down through the soft hair, across his stomach and to his navel.  His tongue flicked out again for just a moment, eliciting a groan from Jason, and then six kisses, three on each side, littered up Jason's ribs.

 

"Dammit, Bruce, stop—"

 

"Shh."  Bruce's hand drifted down to stroke the curve of Jason's waist, hip, and thigh, those fingers impossibly gentle.  Jason bit his lip to stifle another complaint, pressing his head backwards into the pillow and closing his eyes as Bruce's hands continued, fingers mapping out every inch of Jason's stomach and abdomen, as if he were trying to familiarize himself—Jason realized with a bit of a jolt—with every new scar and mark on his skin.

 

Jason opened his eyes and looked down once, but when he saw that Bruce was watching him with an intensity that was almost _worshipping_ , he had to close them again.

 

"Dammit," he grumbled softly, and that at least got him a soft chuckle that reverberated through Bruce's arms.  Jason almost glared at him, but thought better of it at the last second.  Instead, he took a deep, slightly shaky breath that turned into a downright shudder as Bruce moaned softly.  " _Jason..._ "

 

Jason didn't—couldn't—respond, just reached out to clutch at Bruce's shoulders tightly.

 

And then Bruce had lifted himself up, spread Jason's thighs, and settled between them.  Then he was slicking up his fingers, pressing them gently inside Jason, preparing him more than Jason usually went for.  Bruce was going to do this thoroughly, Jason could tell.

 

And then Bruce pushed in, achingly slowly, not the frantic, rough thrusts that Jason had come to expect from him.

 

_Fuck._

 

Bruce obviously could feel Jason's nails digging into his shoulders, because once he had pushed in all the way, he leaned in and gave him a deep, tender kiss, which Jason found himself leaning into almost desperately.

 

"It's all right, Jay," he could hear Bruce whisper, and when Jason pulled back, their faces were inches apart.  This time, however, Jason couldn't look away, but he couldn't quite speak, either.  He nodded mutely, swallowed nervously.

 

Jason saw Bruce's face soften, and he leaned in to kiss Jason again.  It was nothing more than a brush of lips before he began to move.

 

Jason caught himself trying to thrust his hips again, trying to _urge_ Bruce to move more quickly, but the man would have none of it, placing a steadying hand on Jason's ribs whenever he got too eager.  After a point, Jason just gave in, rocking his hips forward, relishing the feeling of Bruce inside him, stretching him, filling him up over and over.

 

He could hear soft gasps escaping his lips at each push, but he was unable to keep himself quiet, and after a point, he buried his face in Bruce's neck, shaking slightly and threading his fingers through Bruce's hair.  After a while, he realized that Bruce's soft noises were words, murmuring to him, sometimes nonsensical, other times distinct enough to be almost comforting if they didn't leave him feeling so raw, rawer than a fuck would ever leave him.  Jason could feel his throat tighten at the word "perfect," and tried not to listen after that.

 

The build to the orgasm was slow again, just as slow as before, and Bruce was with him every second of the way.  His voice faded into soft background noise, and Jason focused intently on the clarity of the physical sensations—the faint dampness of sweat on Bruce's neck, the faint pressure from Bruce's fingers, the subtle underlying smell of sex and _Bruce._   Jason wasn't even trying to fight anymore.  Bruce had won—Bruce always won—but he had a half-uncomfortable half-ecstatic feeling that Jason had won too, maybe even moreso than Bruce.  His legs tightened around Bruce's waist as he came, fingers digging into Bruce's back as Bruce came at the same time.  _That's never happened before.  Jesus._

 

Jason took a deep breath as Bruce pulled out of him, still shaking slightly as they kissed again.  Bruce's hand slid down Jason's shoulder and arm, but pulled back as he felt Jason's muscles tense and slowly pushed himself off.

 

Jason shifted slightly after he had regained his breath.  Normally, he would have simply left afterwards, but this was... different.  Maybe.  He wasn't sure if Bruce even wanted him around.

 

After several minutes of deliberation, he figured he could risk turning, resting on his side instead, glancing over at Bruce.  Bruce had beaten him to it, and was already watching Jason, expression unfathomable.

 

Neither of them said anything.  Jason shifted again, then made up his mind.  He placed his hand on the sheets, intending to push himself up.

 

"Stay."

 

The word surprised him, and he looked over at Bruce again.  His expression was still hard to read, but Jason thought (wasn't sure) that he could see a hint of pleading in it as well.

 

Stay.  It could mean a lot of things— _did_ mean a lot of things—and they both knew it.

 

Jason hesitated.  They had been dancing around this for months.  Jason would once have insisted he wanted nothing to do with Bruce anymore, sex excepted, but...

 

Well, he didn't know what had happened, but he didn't hate him anymore.  That couldn't have been further from—

 

Jason swallowed.  He didn't know what Bruce was expecting to hear.  Jason didn't know what he was expecting to say.  After a few moments, he made his decision.

 

His hand moved, and Jason saw the disappointment flash across Bruce's face.  But then Jason reached out, placing his hand over Bruce's, and curled his fingers around the back of it.

 

Neither of them said anything.  Neither of them needed to.  Bruce's hand turned to catch Jason's, lacing their fingers together, and tugging him closer.  Jason stiffened as Bruce pulled him into his arms, but after a moment he could feel the tension drain from every inch of his body and he practically threw himself forward, burying his face in Bruce's chest and ignoring the prickling sensation in the back of his nose in favor of the thrilled jumping of his heart.

 

Things weren't perfect.  They weren't even close.  But it was a start.

 

They could work it out from here.


End file.
